Uninvited Guest
by Jazzie-mi
Summary: She realised that from then on, that taking a shower in her own apartment would not be the same as it once was ever again. ;; i understand that i might get reported for this but seriously i couldnt find a character that would fit the insert. plus an oc of mine is in this. SUCK IT.
1. Chapter 1 SCREAM

She knew what it was like to be alone in the world; she knew how low she had to stoop to keep herself alive in the city; renting the cheapest one-bedroom apartment she could find and go to school in a new place like nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. Her mum was a wreck after her father committed suicide a few years back, so she had to take a job over-seas in America just to raise enough money to keep herself alive, let alone her own daughter.

[Name]'s mother would send money back to her in Japan, but it was hardly enough; so at age sixteen, the [h/c]-haired young woman had to take-up a part-time job at a small convenience store a few blocks away her run-down apartment. It was meager pay, but it wasn't like she had a lot to pay for besides her utilities bill and the internet; cable TV wasn't a necessity, but internet was – in her eyes.

The kids at school would laugh when they found out where [Name] lived and some would seem genuinely scared; this was a complete mystery to her until one girl finally answered her lingering question.

"That's the place where tons of teens go to commit suicide, [Name]; they say that whoever lives there will go insane and kill themselves. Or at least, that's the rumour."

Well. That would explain why she didn't have neighbors. Or not any live ones, to say the least. She would have to admit though, that story wouldn't help her sleep for at least a few days.

"Which apartment are you staying in?"

"Uhh, 202, I think."

Her new friend's face paled at the mentioning of her room number and her mouth pressed together into a thin, white line; not exactly helping the queasy feeling stirring in the pit of [Name]'s stomach.

"Oh."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'oh'?"

"Th-that's the room where a boy about our age committed his suicide."

"So?"

If this was an apartment complex where everyone hung themselves, then this shouldn't be a surprise, would it? [Name] swallowed a hard lump in her throat and went back to eating her meager lunch she had made that morning.

"Well, the police found his body in his bathtub. Dead."

"And?"

"The bathtub was full of blood."

Nearly choking on her home-made ongri, [Name]'s eyes flew open and her gaze locked on her friend's hazel brown stare. She was staying in the apartment of a brutal suicide and she took a bath in the same bathtub that was full of blood. Okay, so that really didn't help the whole queasy situation at all.

"Are you serious? Gee, thanks a lot, Tarrae; now I'm not going to sleep at all for the next year – or take a bath!"

"Hey now, don't blame me for the dead kid in your apartment!"

"That's it; I'm taking showers at your house from now on."

"Eugh! I don't want your hair clogging my drain!"

"Too freaking bad; you're the one that brought up the subject of the dead people in my apartment!"

It was true that for a while afterwards, [Name] rarely ever took baths or showers in her bathroom but, after a while, it was just becoming a nuisance to keep going over to Tarrae's place every time she needed to bathe. She just met her like, two months previous and their boundaries in their friendship far transcended a best-friends' of twenty-odd years.

Finally, she stripped down into the nude and hopped inside her own shower, letting the warm water pelt her back. Ah, it felt so good after such a long day of school and work – not to mention the crap ton of homework her teachers assigned for the day. It was great to just unwind for the night and just relax under the gentle beats of water against her spine.

Until she heard a noise above the sound of running water; almost like something had fallen over and hit the tile of the bathroom floor.

Blinking, [Name] furrowed her brows and peaked out from behind the shower certain, her darkened and damp hair sticking to the sides of her face. Her [e/c] eyes locked onto a bottle of foaming soap that had fallen from the edge of the sink counter and onto the floor; well, it was right on the edge, so maybe it was just gravity doing what gravity did best – making things fall.

Disregarding the fallen soap, [Name] returned to her shower; massaging her scalp with her fingers while trying to work the conditioner through her hair.

And then there was another unexplainable noise from inside the bathroom; the rustling of the shower certain.

A screech was building up higher and higher in her throat, flinging herself against the wall and covering her mouth with her hand to prevent the scream from being released. The certain shook faster and faster like someone was shaking it themselves, she could see where the material was being bunched together where a pair of hands would be grabbing – but who the hell would be able to get into her apartment? She was the only one who had a key besides the manager of the complex – and what would she even want to be in [Name]'s apartment anyway?

"Wh-whoever you are, st-stop this right now! Or I'll call the cops!"

She squeaked, her undeniable fear getting the absolute best of her.

The rustling stopped and a small sound rang against the walls and tile; laughter. A boy's laughter.

"Call the cops if you wanna, babe; they won't be able to do anything!"

Wh—? What was a teenage boy doing in her bathroom? Ugh, he didn't sneak in through her window or something, did he? This was why she should have gone with her mum when she had the chance…

Peering out once more around the shower certain, [Name] was going to give the rude boy hiding in her bathroom a good, fat piece of her mind.

"You better get out of my apartment right now or I swear to god…"

[E/c] eyes darted up immediately to the figure that stood just outside her shower; a blonde boy roughly her own age, give or take a few years, was staring back at her with a large grin plastered on his lips. The only hitch was that the places where his eyes were supposed to be were black, hollowed, and a large scar ran across the expanse of his neck. And to top it all, he was transparent.

"You swear to god, _what_?"

Never before in her enter life has [Name] screamed louder.


	2. Chapter 2 SPECTER

After the night's previous escapades, [Name] had finally been able to change without the nagging sensation that he, the ghost that was lurking around her apartment, was watching her with keen and pervish eyes. With a towel limp around her neck, the [h/c]-haired teen scrubbed her locks dry while staring at the anomaly of a sixteen year old blonde boy stood – er, floated, in the middle of her floor with his hands in the stark-white pockets of his hooded sweat-shirt.

He was eyeing her like a piece of cake. Really delicious cake; she swore she saw him salivate a little bit.

"What in the actually hell were you in my bathroom, huh, ghost? Shoo! Get outta here!"

[Name] growled while flicking her wrists towards the front door, not exactly sure how to get a ghost to leave ones house. Should she call a priest to exorcist him? Or…maybe Ghostbusters? How the hell was she supposed to do this…

"If I could leave, I would have, babe; buh-leev me. But, I really can't. Dunno why, either."

A nonchalant shrug lifted the blonde specter's transparent shoulders and a wry smirk curled his lips; the holes where his eyes would be narrowed in the slightest, giving off the appearance like he was checking her out and silently undressing her. Again, probably; given how he was peeking in on her taking a shower. Self-consciously, [Name] brought her legs to her chest and pursed her lips, huffing out a sigh.

"Awwe, don't be like that, honey! I almost saw you naked; in some countries, we'd be married!"

"Don't call me honey, pervert!"

"Well, what should I call you?"

She clenched her teeth together and set her petite jaw, blatant annoyance casting over her visage as she removed the towel from around her neck and tossed it across the room into a pile of clothes on the floor. [Name] had been neglecting to go do her laundry for a while now, so that mountain of fabric was growing larger and larger by the day. As the piece of burgundy, plush fabric sailed through the air – she was aiming at the perverted ghost boy, only to test out her theories of whether or not he was actually transparent – and hit the wall, phasing through the blonde's body like he was just mist.

Well, he kind of was just mist. He had no tangible form, only the bits of his wandering soul left over from dying.

"[N-Name]."

She answered, a bit shocked to witness what she just saw. This much was evident in the manic tone rising in her throat.

"The perfect name for a cutie like you!"

Almost involuntarily, her cheeks flared-up and sported a healthy rose colour. It's stuff like that that'll get him slapped one of these days. How could he flirt so avidly with a straight face like that?

Pursing her lips and shifting her gaze out her only window, she watched outside and breathed in the pedestrians milling about the streets. It wasn't uncommon for there to be people walking around Ikebukuro at this hour; however it was uncommon to be talking with a teenage ghost. It was times like this that made [Name] wonder where in her life she went wrong.

"Well?"

The ghost asked, cocking a single eyebrow and placing his hands on his hips expectantly, as if he were waiting for her to say something. She drew a blank as to what, though.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna ask what my name is?"

His pale lips pursed together to form a sort-of pout, mock-hurt twisting his handsome features. [Name] didn't really care what his name ways, she could probably look it up on the internet anyway; blonde teenagers that tired in the Ikebukuro district of Tokyo, Japan. Shouldn't be too difficult either; since not many people in Japan had blonde hair.

"I don't see how it's relevant but sure, what's your name, Mister Ghost?"

Running her fingers through her still-damp, slick [h/c] locks, [Name] tried her best attempt at hiding a small smile. This was probably one of the only lasting conversations she's had with a guy in a long time; it just sucked that he was already dead.

"Oh-ho! A girl with jokes! I like that,"

The grin that parted his lips just made his appearance all the more attractive, from the teenage girl perspective. It was tough to imagine this guy committing suicide; he probably had a lot of friends – maybe even girlfriends. He did come across like the Casanova type.

"I'm Masaomi, by the way. My surname isn't really important."

[E/c] eyes befell on the tanned scar that rimmed his neck. She was curious as to its origins; how it got there, why it was there, if that was the wound that killed him. [Name] wanted to know so much about him, but more or less found it rude to question and pester him too much. Then again, it wasn't like he was limited on time.

Masaomi's blackened eyes found her wandering gaze lingering around his upper chest area and blinked before a typical charismatic half-smile lifted the muscles in his face. Self-consciously, his fingers rubbed around his neck and felt the scar for himself, acting as if he were embarrassed she could see it. The way she was looking at him made him feel as if he were a zoo animal put on display or even in those dreams when you have to present for the class and you forget your clothes at home.

The look in her eyes, it was fascination; he was curious of him.

"If…you're wondering about this scar, I don't know how it got there. And to be honest, I don't really remember how I died. Or what my life was like before all…this."

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands to himself, his ghostly pale and transparent form.

Biting her lip, [Name] thought about why this could be. She imagined it must be frustrating not knowing anything about yourself except for the fact that you were dead. It was a slight possibility, but maybe, just maybe, because he committed this sin – killing himself – that he was stuck on earth until…until what? Ugh, she couldn't think like this at—

Her eyes flew open wide and her gaze was thrown across the room to her laptop, her clock screen-saver warned her the time was almost midnight – shit! And she had school in the morning!

But never-mind that! She had to do something for this guy. As much as she just loved to have the ghost of a teenage boy watching her undress every afternoon, it just wasn't fair for him to be lingering around without any idea why.

"I'll help you, Masaomi."

[Name] said finally while pressing her lips together.

"You'll…what?"

Bewildered, Masaomi drifted his way closer to the [h/c]-haired teen and quirked his brows into his gold bangs. At the close proximity between the two of them, [Name] could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise and prickle. The foreign and extremely odd sensation of a ghost being right in her face was something she's never experienced before – she was suddenly really cold, but a misty and somber feeling swelled her senses.

Her lips parted to keep talking and found nothing tumbling out besides a few gibberish phrases. She was embarrassed to admit it, but she was blushing. Hard. Feminine eyes dropped to the way Masaomi's mouth was curved slightly up; a smile.

"I want to help you move-on; to get you out of my apartment."

[Name] found her own smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Frankly, I'm not loving the idea of you watching me walk around in my underwear for the time I was living here until now."

A light-hearted laugh burst passed his lips and a ghostly hand was placed onto her shoulder, she couldn't feel it, though she knew it was there. Leaning in a bit, Masaomi's mouth pressed to her blushing cheek and chuckled again. His touch was the slightest of a breeze but as icy as winter. Funny how she was warmer and not colder.

"Thanks, [Name]; you know, for not calling an Exorcist or something to exterminate me."

"Hey, I still have that option so you better tone down the sexual harassment, boy."

"Ha ha, whatever you say."

She thinks over how she was going to get any information like this; it wasn't like people just gave out information like this for free, and the newspapers weren't exactly the most reliable sources. Why would a huge printing place publish a story about a puny sixteen year old that killed himself in his apartment? Hardly seemed like pressing news to the adult world.

But then it hit her – she'd check the Dollars site.


End file.
